


serve as my witness

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hair Brushing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Sharing a Bed, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: Galen never thought he'd survive Eadu, much less have to explain all the things he did so that Bodhi would carry the message.





	serve as my witness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10767201) by [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake). 



> Hi rosecake, I hope you enjoy! This would technically function as a sequel to your own "Falling" - if it's cool with you I can link them after reveals.

As the shuttle begins its descent to the surface of Lah'mu, Galen looks up from his silent contemplation of their return to find Jyn's eyes on him. Many times over the last few days of his convalescence he's found her watching him - cautious, as though part of her doesn't believe he's truly there. 

Of the period directly before that, he remembers little: a sharp, searing pain from Krennic's weapon made worse when he tried to dive for cover from the attacking Rebel fighters. A vague memory of being half carried, half dragged onto a ship of some sort. Then the dark relief of unconsciousness, followed by a hazy few days of bacta treatments and medics prodding him. And when he had healed enough to debrief, a woman in white robes with sharp questions walked with him through the dim stone corridors of the Rebel base, her pace slow to allow for the crutch Galen had to use.

It was after this that Jyn returned, his daughter now a hero in the Rebellion, celebrated for stealing the Death Star plans and transmitting them to the rebel fleet. "You'll be at the top of the Empire's most wanted lists," Mon Mothma told them both calmly. "It would be in the best interests of all of you _and_ the Rebellion if we found a place for you to hide out for some time."

"The Empire already found us on Lah'mu once. They won't think to look there again," Galen replied. "Especially with Krennic dead. He liked to keep secrets for his own power; I'm certain the location of my defection was one of them."

Jyn nods. "And if this all goes as planned, they'll have other things to worry about besides us."

-

She smiles hesitantly at him across the shuttle, and Galen smiles back. There are so many things he wants to tell her, and so many things he wants to know. Finally, they might have the time.

"Touching down," Bodhi calls from the pilot's seat.

The shuttle settles gently on the long grass. As the ramp descends, Galen takes a deep breath. Lah'mu smells exactly as he remembers. Jyn tucks her arm through his as they walk off the shuttle onto soft earth, the likes of he hasn't stepped foot on in years. The base of his walking stick sinks into it a little.

It's raining, but not heavily. It feels cool on his face. 

Bodhi comes up beside them, pulling a large pack onto his shoulders. "Less dusty than Jedha," he comments. He trails his fingers through the wet grass, then looks up at Galen with what could be a smile. "Where to?"

"I'm sure Krennic tried to burn our old farmhouse, and what's not burned is likely overgrown, but some of the shelter might still be intact. If so, we can camp out there for the night, then start looking for someplace better to stay tomorrow."

Jyn's pace slows as they approach the homestead, and Galen feels the same hesitation. He squeezes her hand. "We could bunk down elsewhere," he offers quietly. "There's still the shuttle."

"I'm fine, Papa." 

Bodhi lifts his eyebrows just slightly, questioning. "I can go ahead, check for anything skulking around the place," he offers, gesturing at the worn-looking farmhouse. It's no longer the white it was when Jyn was a child, now heavily streaked with soot all along one side and up onto the roof. Even just the change in color is enough to keep Galen from believing outright that he's been thrown back in time. 

"We're all right," he tells Bodhi. 

They have all cleared worse places, and they have all slept worse places. Lah'mu is so sparsely populated, and the farmstead remote enough, that Galen thought it had likely been a long time before anyone realized it was abandoned, if there was even anyone _to_ realize. He's surprised to see some of the farming equipment still there, albeit rusted, and the main shelter seems to have been sealed up by the fire instead of thoroughly burned. Likely it had been too damp that day for the fire to gain the hold the Deathtroopers expected. Weeds and grasses have grown up along all the walls, making it look even smaller. 

Bodhi has a small welding torch, and with some effort, they are able to get through the main door.

Inside, the air is both musty and dry, the smell of smoke long since dissipated. Galen has to swallow hard, almost expecting Lyra around the corner. There's a warm touch to his wrist; it's not Jyn, but Bodhi, looking at him almost carefully. "I'm sure this is difficult," he says in a quiet voice.

"I've done worse," Galen answers, but the hoarseness in his throat belies his words. 

"It'll be dark soon," Jyn says, one hand tangled in her necklace. "We should -"

"Yes."

There are a few bedrolls among the shuttle's emergency supplies, so that's sorted. A broom still rests in the corner of the kitchen and Bodhi takes it up without comment, sweeps off all the flat surfaces, and then out all of the corners and across all the floors, carrying each pan of dust outside. Galen finds he's been standing in the same place, simply watching as Bodhi makes several trips, and no one asks him why, or suggests he find something productive to do. He shakes himself out of the thick, foggy feeling, and starts opening cupboards. The stack of old fabric they used to use to clean up is still where he remembers, the edges still perfectly lined up. The last person to fold them was Lyra. 

He must lose himself again, staring at the faded squares, because he startles when a hand curves over his shoulder. "Galen," Bodhi says, and his fingers squeeze, pressure against Galen's tense muscles. "It was a long trip. The shuttle's not the most comfortable. You must be tired."

Galen opens his mouth to say that he's fine, but finds his voice has deserted him. He _is_ tired. 

Bodhi's hand squeezes again. "Come on, there's a chair right here, sit down."

"I was going to wet some rags with the rainwater and clean," Galen manages to reply, as Bodhi steers him into the chair. "You and Jyn shouldn't have to do all of it. I'm not an old man, Bodhi."

"But you are still healing." Bodhi meets his gaze and Galen sees only warm concern in Bodhi's dark eyes. "We'll find something for you to fix soon enough, I'm sure."

Bodhi takes half the pile and goes up the stairs out of the shelter as Jyn comes in with a bedroll in each hand. She pauses at the sight of him sitting down. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Jyn doesn't look convinced, at least to his eyes, but she doesn't press. "It looks like more rain on the horizon, so at least we'll be dry for the night," she says. From each pocket, she fishes a small torch, and sets them on the table still stacked with dishes fifteen years old. "And able to get around in the dark."

"The ones in the bottom cabinet are probably still there," he tells her, nodding at the place he last remembers them being. 

There are three dusty torches in the cabinet, but only one turns on, and the beam is unsteady. "I'm sure I can repair it in no time," Galen says, glad for the task. The set of precision tools still in a nearby drawer should be more than good enough for this.

-

Jyn and Bodhi wipe down the dirtiest surfaces as Galen takes the torch apart. His eyes and hands are concentrated on the small parts, but he's thinking back to the first few times he looked at Bodhi and thought, _Maybe he's the one I can use in all this._

At first, all he wanted to do was gain Bodhi's trust, suss out the level of his allegiance to the Empire. That was easy enough, since a majority of the shuttle pilots were flying for work, not because of some burning loyalty to the Emperor and his genocidal ideas. What Galen hadn't expected was to _like_ Bodhi. He hadn't expected to feel the genuine dread at sending him away, nor the genuine surprise at opening his eyes at the Rebel base and seeing Bodhi sitting close beside his cot.

They haven't talked about all the things that happened before he sent Bodhi off with the message. Now, here, Galen won't be able to edge away should Bodhi want to talk about it. And Bodhi probably will. And now, Galen argues with himself, the fact that he'd previously come to the conclusion that neither one of them would come out of this mess alive is not likely to ease Bodhi's mind. 

Connections repaired, he puts the torch back together, and blinks it on and off a few times. "Just in time," Jyn says, and Galen realizes it's gotten significantly dimmer in the farmhouse. 

"You get should get some sleep," Jyn adds. "We all should."

"Galen and I can bunk together, as long as sleeping in your old room isn't…" Bodhi says from behind her, the hesitant words trailing off. "Um, strange, I mean." He meets Galen's eyes over Jyn's shoulder and Galen nods.

Jyn says, "Slept in worse places. I'll be fine."

She leans down; Galen hugs her tightly for a moment, whispering, "Sleep well, Stardust," into her hair.

-

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Bodhi asks quietly as he follows Galen into the bedroom. "There's always the shuttle."

He'd been expecting another flood of memories as he crossed the threshold, expecting to blink and see Lyra there, but it's only an empty, dusty room. Someone's pulled the old blankets from the bed, and put down the military bedroll. It's curled up slightly at the ends as though in protest. 

"I'm fine with it, are you?"

Bodhi gives him a look and takes his boots off, which Galen supposes is as good an answer as any. He removes his own, then his tunic, averting his gaze in case Bodhi wants to undress. When he looks again, Bodhi is picking at the ties in his hair and looking mutinous. 

"Can I help?" Galen asks. 

Bodhi turns his head, still scowling, but then his expression evens out. "That would be nice, thanks."

Lyra's comb is still in the drawer. Bodhi's eyes widen slightly and Galen says quietly, "It's been fifteen years, and I don't think she would mind. Sit, please."

"You're the one with the leg. You take the bed, I'll sit on the floor."

Bodhi folds himself into a cross-legged position before Galen can even reply, so he just sits down on the edge of the bed with his knees apart so Bodhi can move back a little. "If I need to cut out the ties, is that all right?"

"Yes. I have a knife." He produces it from his boot - small, thin, and sharp. 

Galen looks at the knot, then at the ragged edges of his nails, never a thing he was good at keeping neat and worse the more stress he's under. He takes the small knife and cuts the thin cords holding back Bodhi's hair in several places, then starts from the bottom up, combing out the tangles. The room isn't large and for that he's grateful, maybe their combined body heat will make it comfortable enough to fall asleep in. It's not freezing, but Galen feels like he has a perpetual shiver these days, and anything less than actual warmth makes his leg seize up after a while. Nothing time and rest can't heal, and it seems he may have plenty of time. 

Carefully, he works the tangles from Bodhi's hair until it falls smoothly over his neck and down his back. There's still a cord wound around the handle of the comb, but it breaks as he unspools it. Unthinking, he drops his hands to Bodhi's shoulders, and Bodhi flinches. He seems to startle easily now. "Sorry," Galen says, after a beat, at the same time Bodhi also murmurs an apology. Galen squeezes his arm gently. "Do you have, ah..."

Bodhi lifts his hip to dig in a pocket for a moment and comes up with a piece of heavy string, frayed at both ends. "Good enough for now," he says, and hands it up.

Galen fumbles a bit, gathering all of Bodhi's hair, but manages a low knot that's serviceable and secure. "Tomorrow I'll take a look at the 'fresher - see if the sonic can't be repaired." He pauses, thinking back. "I never did get around to figuring out a water-usage shower for this place."

Bodhi shrugs. "I'm used to sonics; it's all we had in the pilots' quarters." He unfolds himself from the floor, then looks at the bed. Lines of exhaustion are written clearly on his face, and Galen feels just as tired despite his days of recovery. 

"We can talk tomorrow," he says, meaning _we can talk about before_ , and Bodhi nods quickly, clearly relieved. Galen lies down, careful to leave a good amount of space between them, and thankfully falls asleep soon after.

-

"I didn't expect to leave Eadu alive," Galen says quietly the next morning, letting his head rest on the pillow alongside Bodhi's. "I hope you can forgive what I did."

There's still space between them, but Bodhi moves his arm back, settles his hand on Galen's sore thigh. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, but he doesn't move, and Galen can feel him breathing. His fingertips twitch occasionally. Galen can tell when he's about to speak, because Bodhi's inhale is big enough to press his back lightly to Galen's chest. It's a question he was expecting. "Was everything you said to me a lie?"

The easy answer is _no_ , to spare Bodhi's feelings. Galen doesn't _want_ to think of himself as a monster. He'd done his best to avoid becoming one - and yet. But Bodhi must still think him redeemable, if he's still lying next to Galen like this, hand resting warmly on Galen's leg.

"I hope you'll forgive me if I make a worse mess of things trying to explain," he says, after it feels like he's taken much too long to respond. "I had to find someone who appeared suggestible, at first, and do my best to cultivate your trust. And cultivation was never really what I was good at - I was even a terrible farmer. My wife was always much better at people. You could have left me with my projects for days and I wouldn't have noticed there wasn't another life-form nearby."

"I did put that together about you," Bodhi murmurs, the words dry.

Galen continues, "In the beginning, requesting your company was a ruse." Bodhi moves slightly at that, so Galen puts his hand on top of Bodhi's, and says, "You were kind, and you didn't care about the Empire, which is what I most needed to know. What it was important I figure out about you. Whether I could get you to trust me enough, to like me enough, to risk yourself and get my message to Saw."

"I did like you," Bodhi whispers, as though he can't stop himself from saying it.

A dull sort of ache pushes into Galen's chest at that, and what he still needs to say. "As for what I think it is you want to know most: I let myself be vulnerable in front of you to gain your trust, yes. And I took you to bed much sooner than I would under other - circumstances, let's say. If things were different - we'd never have met." 

It's the truth. If Krennic hadn't murdered Lyra and forced Galen to Eadu, he and Bodhi would never have crossed paths. 

"It felt like you enjoyed it."

"I did enjoy it," Galen replies, hating the hoarseness of his own voice. "I may have over-sold my grief somewhat, but I couldn't fake that."

Bodhi shakes his head; his hair brushes against Galen's face. "I don't think I want to talk about this any more right now," he says. He sits up, then grips Galen's hand awkwardly for a brief second. "Maybe later."

-

There are other things to worry about for most of the next few days: food, water, keeping watch for anyone who might try to come for them. They collect and run enough rainwater through the distiller to stay hydrated, and Bodhi sorts out rations from the shuttle. There's at least enough to feed the three of them until Captain Andor brings the promised supplies, enough even to last if he comes a few standard days late.

The rain lets up enough the third evening for Galen to go out and see what's come of the land they used to farm. "I wasn't a very good farmer," he says to Jyn, leaning on the walking stick. His hip is throbbing dully, likely from the weather. "We barely grew enough to eat."

"You were a decent fisherman, though," she replies. She points in the direction of the lake. "I remember playing on the beach while you fished, and we always brought a few meals home."

"You were always covered in sand," Galen chuckles. 

Jyn crouches down to push her fingers into the wet dirt, surveying the tangle of plants in front of them, growing in every direction. "It's not barren, at least. This even looks like what we used to grow."

"Gone wild, if it is." He reaches out with the walking stick and lifts a clump of the vines. "See anything that looks edible?"

"Think I might," she says with a smile. She reaches into the vines, comes back with a few of the skinny, starchy vegetables Galen remembers. Jyn snaps one in half and sniffs, and a faraway look crosses her face. "They smell right," she murmurs. 

The vegetable is too bitter to eat raw but mellows when cooked. Galen gives Jyn a hand up from the ground, saying, "I think I remember how to prepare it. At least we'll have a change from the rations."

Captain Andor arrives at the arranged time. Galen watches from the doorway of the farmhouse as Jyn goes out to meet him, watches them stand holding on to one another for a long moment, Andor's hand cupping the back of Jyn's neck.

-

Jyn and Captain Andor are in the kitchen, their low-pitched voices trading back and forth rapidly enough that Galen's sure he's walking into an argument when he steps in. "Excuse my interruption," he says, when they both look at him, blinking as though they'd forgotten anyone was nearby, "I only wanted to get the salve Captain Andor brought from the medic."

It's on the counter. Cassian passes it over. "Dr. Erso," he begins, then immediately falters, and seems to shake his head at himself. "We need Jyn. The Rebellion has several operations it - _we_ \- need to have in place, ready to execute together when the Death Star is destroyed."

"They do plan to use the weakness, then."

"Yes. Soon." 

Galen doesn't ask about the other operations; Andor likely isn't at liberty to discuss outside of the most general terms. He looks at Jyn, and she looks resolute. "Jyn. What do you want to do?"

"I'm good at this. Saw made sure of that. I'll go."

Not for the first time, Galen feels that wave of regret, sorry for all the choices he'd made that assured his daughter's life would turn into one of mercenary soldier. "If you want to fight the Empire, I would never try to stop you," he says quietly, and Jyn folds herself into his arms. 

“I told myself you were dead,” she whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear the words. “It was –“

“Easier,” Galen replies. He rests his head briefly on hers. “I told myself that you were alive.”

She looks up, and the corner of her mouth twists a bit. “Saw was – he tried. I’m grateful he did. Up until the day he left me behind.”

“Perhaps he did not want to see you killed.” He understands that decision, because he’d made the same one himself.

-

The farmhouse is even quieter with only two people. Galen strips the burned pumps and distillers for parts, and uses those to repair the least damaged ones, so there's potable water. "I can't repair much more without further supplies," he says, spooning bland stew into a bowl and passing it over to Bodhi. "The fire damage is too great in some places, I've run out of things to salvage from."

Between the two of them - Bodhi is quicker at the manual labor, but Galen is better at figuring out what's wrong with something - the farmhouse becomes a place that's livable again, instead of just a shelter from the elements until something better is found. 

"I feel like you've been avoiding me," Bodhi says suddenly, as they do their best at a haphazard arrangement of foliage over a frame, making a shelter for the shuttle if and when it returns, one that will hopefully be camouflaged against the landscape. 

He's right in that they haven't spoken much since that first night, despite sharing the same bed. Galen's often so tired he falls asleep before he can sort out what he most wants to say, but there have been several mornings now that he's surfaced into consciousness to find that he and Bodhi have rolled together in their sleep, their bodies now curved together. He threads another whip-thin branch through the frame, breathing in the sharp, somewhat acidic scent of the greenery, then says, "I felt it best to let you decide what we might be to each other."

Bodhi stops his weaving and gives Galen an incredulous look, then huffs a dry laugh. "Well. A smart decision, from you." 

His hands move again and Galen hears branches rustling, then Bodhi pauses again and his gaze sharpens. "Although I have to admit I thought you'd try to make me like you again."

"Are we no longer friends?" Galen asks. It's an inadequate question and he regrets it immediately. 

"Didn't you lie to me?"

This time he's the one to stop moving and stare at Bodhi. "Nothing I said was a lie."

An easily identifiable sadness crosses Bodhi's face, then he sighs. "No, I suppose not," he replies in a quiet voice. 

Galen limps closer and slowly reaches out his hand. Bodhi looks at it, then raises his eyebrows at Galen. "You act as though I'm some shy animal, easily startled," he says. 

Galen gestures as if to say, _well?_ , and Bodhi lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I guess it's not far off. And you have... apologised." He takes Galen's hand and squeezes warmly, then holds on a moment longer before saying, "We should finish this, for when Jyn and Cassian return." 

It takes him a second to remember where he was working on the shelter. The greens and browns have started to blend together in his eyes; he has to blink a few times and let his vision readjust. Bodhi comes around with an armful of freshly cut branches, and wordlessly starts helping Galen fill in the gaps. It's quiet and companionable, and Galen loses himself in the busywork, accompanied by the softness of Bodhi humming under his breath, and the sharp scent of the sap.

-

It rains all through the following day. Galen lifts a scarf over his head and goes out to check on the small vegetable garden - a loose term. Lyra insisted on planting it, closer to the farmhouse than the actual fields, and he remembers being glad when it got them through a lean season. Half the plants left in there have run wild, the other half died off without a guiding hand. It's probably for the best, so that someone flying overhead wouldn't look down and see an orderly square. He harvests the few things that are ripe and turns the fallen, rotting others into the dirt for fertilizer, then returns to the indoors.

Bodhi is sitting at the table. In front of him is one of Jyn's old dolls, the sort Galen has a hazy memory of stuffing quickly into a drawer when the Deathroopers came. "Sometimes my mind doesn't put together that you, Galen Erso, are Jyn's father. You know she came up with the entire plan, for what we did on Scarif? Said Saw told her that we just had to take one chance, then another, then another. Until either the mission was complete, or we ran out of chances."

He looks up from staring at the doll, and meets Galen's eyes. "I thought I was going to die there."

Galen doesn't know what to say to that. He sets his harvest on the counter, then sits down in the second chair. 

Bodhi continues. "When I brought your message, Saw Gerrera put me with that creature, the one that reads minds. I thought I might lose mine."

That's a feeling Galen is familiar with. He wants to reach out and take Bodhi's hand, but he keeps both of his own folded in his lap. "And now?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's getting better."

"I feel the same, most days," Galen admits. He adjusts the collar of his tunic, sees Bodhi's gaze track the movement. Then Bodhi leans up out of his chair and presses his mouth to Galen's, clumsy at first, until he cups Galen's jaw and they're kissing messily. Galen hasn't kissed anyone since the last time he kissed Bodhi, and the feel of it is electric, like he's come too close to a live wire. He feels Bodhi's hands squeeze first his biceps, then his shoulders, then the back of his neck. 

"Galen," Bodhi mumbles, but only that, and his teeth scrape sharply over Galen's bottom lip. 

He moves his aching leg carefully out to the side, then grasps Bodhi's hips and pulls, maneuvering Bodhi between his knees so that he can feel Bodhi's body, warm and alive, against his own. "Galen," Bodhi says again; Galen feels Bodhi's cool fingers on the small buttons of his tunic collar, and so tilts his head back to allow Bodhi access.

It takes him a few seconds to realize Bodhi's hands are shaking. Galen lifts his own to cup his palms around Bodhi's rough knuckles. "We don't have to do this," he whispers. "We could play cards, I could destroy you at Sabacc until it takes your mind off this."

Bodhi laughs as though Galen's words have surprised him. Then he says, "No, I'd rather you destroy me in bed right now, all right?", and resumes his work on the buttons.

-

Bodhi takes the shuttle and flies to Dantooine to strip what he can from the abandoned Rebel base, the location given to them by Andor. The silence pushes up against Galen from all sides, a weight to it. He hasn't been in a place this quiet in a very long time. He can't move fast enough to escape it, still needing the walking stick if he's up and about for more than Lah'mu's cool morning. For the first time since they arrived, images of the past flicker over what he looks at in the present.

"I'm just an old man," he tells the sky. It doesn't answer. 

He continues cleaning the few spaces they haven't really touched, tinkers with things that clearly haven't functioned in forever, sleeps on the couch. It no longer smells like clove, and Galen hasn't touched a pipe in years. He craves it suddenly, and the pipe itself is still in the small keeping bag in a drawer, but what herb is in the pouch is long stale. He remembers it grew wild along the side of the mountain. If he uses the stick, he should make it, and the walkabout will fill some time. 

He goes slowly, stopping every quarter of an hour or so when he's distracted by a new flora he doesn't remember from before, or where the moss grows in an interesting repetitive spiral that he thinks he might like to sketch. He doesn't realize how unconsciously, how easily he's slipping into the patterns of fifteen years ago until he opens his mouth to talk to Lyra, and remembers.

Galen can still speak to her, though. "I miss you," he whispers. To the moss, to the black sand beaches, to the mountains. "I miss our life when it was small, and simple, although I can hardly remember that time."

That might be what hurts the most, he reflects, because he doesn't want to forget it. He reaches to brush his fingers over the soft, dark green moss, cool and damp against his skin. "I'm sorry for everything."

-

Bodhi returns with a shuttle half-full of parts and supplies he collected. "It was strange, being there alone. My footsteps echoed. You could tell how fast the Rebellion left," he says, as Galen peers at an entire comm panel. "I stripped everything that wasn't too difficult to carry, and I found this stuffed in a corner of a crate. Someone probably forgot it was there."

He pulls a half-size bottle of brandy from the pocket of his vest. "I thought we could share it later tonight, once we've turned on the lamps."

They've been playing Sabacc by lamplight before going to sleep. Bodhi's still bad at it, and occasionally frowns angrily at Galen when he wins. "It's _math_ ," Galen always insists. "I can't help it."

"It's _cheating_ ; you'd get tossed out of three-quarters of the casinos in the galaxy for that." 

"But not the other quarter, so I'd still come out ahead." It's a well-worn argument at this point, and not even much of one, and Bodhi continues to play despite losing more often than not. 

Galen gestures at the brandy. "Or we don't need to wait, we could drink some now."

"I like this idea," Bodhi replies, and takes two glasses from the cupboard. He pours as Galen turns the comm panel over and around, looking at the chips and wires. 

"Could use this to scan for any transports that might approach," he says, tapping the light metal. "Or rather, I could use it to fix the old scanner. I would sleep easier knowing we would have at least a few moments more to hide, should the Empire come for us. And we might be able to get news from the Rebellion."

Bodhi's nodding. He passes Galen a glass. "Can I help?"

Together they break the panel down into useful smaller parts and pieces, then Galen sips his brandy and watches Bodhi take the old scanner from the mount. He places each tiny screw gently in Galen's palm. "I'm sorry," Galen says, as Bodhi works, "that you'll have to spend the rest of your life running from the Empire."

Bodhi sets the now blank and useless screen on the table and brushes his fingertips through the dust that coats it. Then he smiles at Galen. "I'm not. And, Gods willing, there might come a time when we get to stop running."

-

"I let my hair grow out once," he says, one hand in Bodhi's loose hair, working out the tangles with his fingers. It's still damp; Galen washed it for him outside, with water and soap, instead of using the sonic for once. They're stretched out on the sofa now, Bodhi partway on top of him, his head resting on Galen's shoulder. The lingering clean scent of the soap fills Galen's nose.

"I can't picture that."

"Maybe I thought it could be a disguise, but it wasn't."

Bodhi's soft laugh is warm against his neck. "I imagine it made you look a little roguish and wild."

"More like a man who couldn't be bothered," Galen replies, and Bodhi laughs again. Galen works out a few more tangles, runs his thumb down Bodhi's spine for good measure, and enjoys Bodhi's small shiver. "I also couldn't be bothered to shave more than once every few days."

"Definitely roguish and wild." Bodhi's hand slides up and strokes his cheek. "I wouldn't mind if you grew a beard."

"I'd look like an old man." 

Bodhi pats his face at that. "Are you fishing for me to dispute the unchangeable fact of your age?"

"Terrible," Galen sighs, and tugs Bodhi's hair, but gently. 

The alarm Galen rigged begins to sound, a steady droning noise, and they both look in that direction before getting up. Galen silences the alarm and looks at the tiny screen. There's a blip, then another, the ship moving but not fast. This system can't tell if what's coming is Imperial or civilian or something else, only that something is going to be flying overhead soon.

He slides his feet in his shoes and reaches for his cloak and walking stick, as Bodhi hurries to straighten his clothes and get his boots on. Two already filled packs are hung on hooks by the door. Galen shoulders one of them and Bodhi the other. In silence, Galen bolts the door behind them and tips the waiting pile of brush haphazardly in front of it. 

They've built a hide Galen can reach - he'd never make it to the old one in time. Bodhi takes his free arm, and they get to the hillside shelter quick enough. It's mostly just a lean-to, with a turf roof that they've grafted onto the hillside, so that the part to hide in looks like an outcropping of worn rock from above. It was satisfying to build, and to figure out how to best make it disappear into the side of the hill. More satisfying than the repetitiveness of farming. 

Galen finds he's not anxious, standing inside. Part of him thinks that the thing that jumps inside you when bad things could happen has given up, too many jumps, too many bad things. He thinks maybe he stopped feeling a lot of things when the Deathtroopers nudged him off the shuttle onto the landing platform at Eadu, and Krennic said, "Welcome to your new home."

Beside him, Bodhi is standing motionless, his face intent, clearly listening for any approach. The utter stillness is almost heavy; Galen feels his feet pressing down on the soft earth, but it's not oppressive. His chest feels almost light, lighter with every lungful of the overwhelmingly green-moss smell. 

"It doesn't sound Imperial," Bodhi says, as the sound of the ship gets somewhat closer. Their shoulders press together. "Sounds civilian, actually." 

He pauses, looking out the small square window, then adds, "It's so easy to forget we're not the only ones on the entire planet."

The droning noise starts to fade out. Galen looks out the window. There's nothing in the sky except the same few wisps of gray cloud. He feels Bodhi's hand slide into his.


End file.
